


Only One

by YourLuckyWish



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Slight OOC, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLuckyWish/pseuds/YourLuckyWish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is fighting demons within themselves, always smile. Always be kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only One

With a flip of a sign and a chime of the door, a tall blonde left a now closed bar. It had been a long day at work for the bartender, he was more than tired. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go home and watch some of his old favorite comedy movies.

  
The man’s steps slowly came to a stop and he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his vest pocket, promptly lighting one between his tanned lips. As soon as he was about to continue walking, the man caught sight of his reflection in a café mirror.

 

The natural brunette growled loudly at his reflection and then continued to snarl at the people staring at him. The smoking brute stomped his way to the nearest convenience store on his way home. Rushing inside he purchased blonde hair dye and a box of chocolate pocky.

 

He continued on his daily commute home, munching on his chocolate covered treat as a way to cope with his anger.

 

Mid-yawn, in an attempt to cover his mouth, Shizuo’s elbow ran into someone’s shoulder. Blinking, he looked down spotting midnight black hair. “Ah, Sorry.” Shizuo apologized.

 

The one he ran into glanced back up at the tall blonde, his lips curving into an ever so sly smirk. “It’s quite alright.” His smile never wavered; his almost red eyes peered through the other like Shizuo was nonexistent.

 

Of course, such actions pissed the easily tempered man off. More so now than usual. Glaring at the short raven haired stranger, Shizuo shoved him out of the way. “Annoying…” He mumbled under his breath, loud enough for the other to hear.

 

Izaya blinked in surprise at the other’s rudeness, but shook it off nonetheless. He sighed and continued walking the opposite direction of the well dressed bartender.

 

He planned out his whole day. He was that type of person. Gradually, his day was coming to an end. To him, it ended too quickly. And it wasn’t that swell of a day either. He paced himself, walking to his final destination.

 

The smile on his face never let up while walking the streets of Ikebukuro. He stopped directly across from Sunshine 60 and stood in contemplation.

* * *

 

_A chime resonated from the front door of a midtown bar. It was silver with a red marble from which the sound came from. It dangled ever so slightly above the heads of men and women who entered the facility on a late weekend’s night._

 

_This time the bell above the door rang for a short raven haired male. He stepped sat on a stool facing the bartender’s place of work and waited till the bartender saw him. He saw scruffy blonde hair disappear and he caught sight of caramel eyes. His own rust colored eyes widened at the sight of the handsome bartender._

_While drying out a glass with a white towel, the bartender stepped closer to Izaya. Izaya then tugged his hood over his face even more._

  
_“What would you like to drink, sir?” Shizuo asked sternly, setting the glass down onto the counter._

 

_“Vodka please.” Izaya subtly responded._

 

_“Dry?” Shizuo questioned at the other while he grabbed a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him._

 

_Izaya nodded. Izaya wasn't always so silent, he just wasn't in the mood per say and it also didn’t take Shizuo long to notice how short the customer was being with him. He shook it off, he was quiet. He liked quiet, he thought as he handed the other his drink._

 

_“Why are you covering your face?” The blonde asked in a prying manner._

 

_ Izaya grabbed a napkin and wrote, _ “I’d rather not say, thank you.” _He glanced up at the bartender and saw a warm smile spread across his face._

 

_Shizuo grabbed a pen of his own and another napkin writing his response._

“It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.”

 

 _Izaya wrote back on his own napkin._ “What’s your name?” _He asked._

 

“Shizuo, you?” _He wrote._

 

“My name is Izaya.”

 

_Every weekend from the moment they met Izaya went to the bar where Shizuo worked, although he never showed his face. At first it was because of a nasty bruise he got from one of his clients, but he decided he liked being kept a secret._

 

_He, of course, took precautions and wore a sanitary mask on his face while he covered it with his hood._

 

_They wrote on napkins rather than talked, and they enjoyed it. Slowly (stubbornly), but surely they grew closer and closer with each visit._

* * *

 

Izaya’s smile enlarged at the memories swimming in his mind. 

 

That was the only good thing that happened, playing with that man. He walked to Sunshine 60 and took an elevator all the way up to the roof.

 

He sighed and sat down, pulling a napkin out of his coat pocket and writing down something.

 

He planned the run in with the bartender. He had hoped that he would recognize him. Shaking his head he grabbed a pocket knife from his back pocket and stabbed the napkin into the flooring of the roof.  He smiled brightly and took a deep breath.

 

 He walked closer and closer to the edge of the building. He stood there awhile.

 

He stood there, his feet barely hanging on.

 

He stood there feeling the wind pick up.

 

He stood there taking in the different hues of oranges and blues in the sky.

 

He stood there thinking about the bartender.

 

He stood there while people below him started to shout.

 

He stood there when the police arrived.

 

Alas, he was no longer standing while the pedestrians standing above him screamed.

 

The impact of the concrete knocked his last breath out. Blood scattering across the pavement and spilling from his limp body.

 

News crews had arrived shortly before he jumped, broadcasting his final moments of life. Many people had watched from below Sunshine 60, and many at home.

 

Specifically a blonde brute.

 

He was sitting on his lumpy couch, hair color in his hair. He had just put it in and decided to watch television while he let the dye sit. Watching the one of his favorite sitcoms, ‘breaking news’ in big letters spread across his tv.  

He sighed and continued to watch the screen in front of him.

 

“This late afternoon Ikebukuro on Sunshine 60, a young man tragically fell to his death in an act of suicide.” The older news reporter spoke while she stared sincerely into the camera before it switched over to the video taken at Sunshine 60 while she narrated. “He went by the name of Orihara Izaya, very famous informant that worked for the police since he was in high school…”

 

Her voice had trailed off and the remote in Shizuo’s grasp dropped.

 

His mind was racing, the first name. He knew it, but he kept himself from jumping to conclusions and continued to watch.

 

A picture of Orihara appeared next to the news woman and instantaneously Shizuo’s eyes widened. 

 

It was the man he ran into on the street on his way home. He gulped remembering how rude he was to him.

 

“… After the police had made it to the roof…” He heard her continue and he quickly looked back up at the television. Instead of a picture of Orihara it was a photo of a napkin. “.. They recovered, what they believe, to be Mr. Orihara’s suicide note. As you can see here.”

 

Shizuo’s hands flew up and met his mouth. His throat throbbed and he felt his eyes sting. He quickly grabbed the remote, rewound the broadcast, and paused it at the note.

 

He dropped the remote once more and stiffly stepped towards his television. Placing a hand on the screen he read the written words in front of him over and over.

 

The napkin that belonged to the bar he worked at.

 

The face he finally saw, but saw it too late.

 

The man he was cruel to in his last moments.

 

The one he was going to ask out the next weekend.

 

The hand writing he knew all too well.

 

The words.

 

“All you had to do was smile, Shizu-chan.

 

Only one smile.”


End file.
